


Without You

by Turtlebaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Death Fic, Grief/Mourning, I am so sorry, I killed Sam, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlebaby/pseuds/Turtlebaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nights are the worst - When Dean loses his brother, he finds a way to cope. He also<br/>finds something else along the way, maybe something he should have expected.  </p>
<p>This story does not have a magical ending. Sometimes death is permanent</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Let me make one thing very very clear. For as hard as I ship these two, I am a Sam girl - all day every day. This literally hurt to write and I am really really sorry. I don't plan on doing it again, but I can't promise because I've always had kind of a fascination with killing my favorites so I could react through the eyes of other characters. It's a terrible thing and normally they just don't get posted. Any feedback is always welcome and treasured.

Sam died on a Wednesday, his head pillowed on Dean’s lap, blood somehow both bright and dark as it coated his lips.  He was sprawled on hard gravel, the moon cold on his skin and the weight of a world again saved settling across his chest.  Dean tapped his cheeks and pushed his god awfully long hair back from his forehead. “Sam. Sammy, c’mon man.” He didn’t even notice the tears that streaked through the grime on his own face. 

“Cas!” He raised his head and screamed into the dark, to the angel that he knew couldn’t help.

“Dean.” Sam coughed and his too red lips split into a smile, small and weak in a way that Sam had never been. “It’s ok. It’s, it’s time.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” Dean shuffled off his knees and pulled his little brother tighter against him. “You don’t get to just give up.”

“Dean, please. Please, this time, let me go.”

And he did. It didn’t take long and Dean spoke in soft words, not stopping even at the rustle of Cas’ arrival. The words fell from his lips as Cas dropped to his knees beside them and light lit from his palms; tracing the outline of Sam but finding nothing they could fix. He kept talking as Cas dropped back onto his heels in defeat.  He didn’t stop until he felt Sam go, until everything that was him went limp and the last exhale wasn’t followed by the rattle of life.  “Goddammit, Sammy.”

Three hours later had his brother wrapped in an old blanket from the trunk of the Impala and resting, with a shocking finality, atop a wood pyre. Cas had shed his trench coat as they silently built up the stack.  He took a step back as Dean pulled a matchbook from his pocket and lit it up with one strike. He gave it a gentle toss and the gas ignited. He didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch as the pile caught with a whoosh of heat.  He stood stoically until the cloth around his brother caught, his chin ducking into his shoulder and eyes falling closed.  But he didn’t turn away until the fire settled and Cas’ hand wrapped itself around his shoulder and pulled him back to reality.

“It’s time to go.” Cas’ tugged gently and Dean went with the movement, turning his back and leaving what remained of his family in a field in Nebraska.  

He didn’t know where to go, the bunker had been too big for the both of them; he didn’t know if he could stand the echoes of being alone. 14 hours of straight driving and he didn’t know how to stop, he wasn’t sure how to start the next day.  The lull of the highway tugged at his eyes and he barely noticed the pull as Cas covered his hand on the wheel and the car slowed to a stop. Ten minutes later and he was curled on his side, staring blankly at the empty second bed. He always knew that this was going to be the hardest day of his life. But he hadn’t really believed it would come, he held strong that the idea of death wasn’t for men like Sam - he had trusted that he would be the first to go, that he’d sacrifice himself to make sure that prophecy came true.

And yet, here he was, alone in an anonymous hotel room with an Angel hovering in the corner, afraid to leave but unaware of how to make it better.  So he hovered and he waited. He knew that eventually the silence would break. So he stood, silent. It was some time later that he moved, shuffled his feet or barely stirred the fabric of his coat and Dean shot up like a gunblast. “Cas?”

“I’m here, Dean.” He stepped out of the corner of the room.

“I thought you left.” He slumped back on the pillows. “I thought I heard…” His voice faded out and he ran a hand over his face. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

“Do you… do you want me to leave?” Cas took a step closer, he hadn’t even considered that the man before him would maybe want to grieve in private. “I can go.”

“No!” Barely hid panic lit his eyes in the dim room and he clenched his fist to keep from reaching out. “Will you just, can you just stay? Just for now.”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas was constantly unsure of his place in Dean’s life, sometimes he saw a spark of something unknown in the other man’s eyes. A lust that dropped his eyes to Cas’ lips and caused a heat to spread under Cas’ ribcage.  Nothing ever came of it besides some awkward glares when Cas dared step into Dean’s space or let his gaze linger just a little too long.

He moved back to his original position and Dean cleared his throat.  A minute passed before his voice came again, soft and strangely unsure. “Cas?”

“Yes?”

He tossed back the blankets on the other side of the bed. “Will you…?”

Cas tilted his head, the confusion clear on his face; even in the dark.

“C’mon man, don’t make me ask.” Dean’s low laugh held no humor. “The quiet is too much.”

“Oh.” Cas moved closer and sat at the edge of the bed, eyes still focused on Dean’s face. “And my proximity will help?”    

“Yeah.” His voice rasped and he looked away, unable to stand the scrutiny from the angel.

He lay still as stone as Cas sat back and pulled his feet onto the bed. He crossed his legs at the ankles and dropped his hands to his sides. “You should sleep now.”

Dean nodded as he slid back down to the pillow. He lay there, eyes wide open, breath loud and harsh to his ears.

“Honey bees can fly at up to 15 miles per hour and visit between 50 and 100 flowers every time they leave the hive.” Cas’ voice floated, low and calm.

The rustle of fabric as Dean turned his head, mildly confused. “Huh?”

“Bees are fascinating.” Cas moved just enough so that his hand covered Dean’s. “They’ve got 170 different odorant receptors, they can recognize members of their hive and whether or not a flower carries pollen or not. Stop staring and go to sleep, Dean.”

Dean did as he was told, closing his eyes and letting Castiel’s voice wash over him; the thrilling life of bees lulling him to sleep like a child and a favorite bedtime story, Cas’ hand warm and soothing over his own.

The next morning lacked the awkwardness that Dean expected - Cas had some froofy coffee and a bagel waiting when he woke up.  He showered as it cooled and then gassed up the impala before hitting the road again.  They drove. Towns fell behind and state highways turned to gravel and back again as the sun rose and fell. Dean talked and Cas listened - about music and cars and as the sun was setting; finally about Sam.  The tears threatened to fall as as he eased the car into the parking lot of a brightly lit motel.

 

Once locked inside the room, one bed this time, two was too much, his walls broke and he bit at his fist to stop the sob that was building. Cas dropped to the floor in front of him and undid the laces of his boots, baring his feet before he climbed onto the bed and tugged Dean down beside him.   “It was my job to protect him. Why couldn’t I protect him, Cas?” 

“You did.” Cas stroked a hand over his hair. “If any soul is worthy of Heaven, it is Sam’s. You did that. You protected that.” 

“But what if…”

“Stop.” Cas’ voice was hard and Dean was shushed. When he spoke again his voice was more hesitant. “I am still an angel, Dean. I can - I can look in on him, if you wish.”

Dean raised his head, green eyes bright. “You can access his heaven?”

“I can look. I cannot interact with him, understand, but I can see. I can ensure that his soul is safe.”

“Is it safe for you?” The words left his mouth before he could think them over too much. “Cas, you’re not exactly welcome in heaven anymore. I don’t want you getting caught or hurt..”  _ Or taken from me, or worse. _

“It’s a separate area. It would just be like peeking in the window; neither Sam nor the other angels will even know I’m there.”

“Then yes. Yes.” Dean dropped his head back to the bed. 

“I’ll go now.” Cas moved to pull away but Dean grabbed at his arm. 

“Tomorrow.” There was a pleading in his voice that he was almost ashamed of. “Will you tell me more about bees?”

Something hot burned in Castiel’s chest at his grip and at his words.  He cleared his throat of the alien emotion before he spoke. “The queen bee can live up to 5 years and her role is to fill the hive with eggs. She is the busiest in the summer months, when the hive needs to be at its maximum strength, she lays up to 2500 eggs per day.”

“That’s a lot.” Dean mumbled into the arm he was clinging to. 

“A hive is a busy place, Dean.” His own laugh surprised him and he ran a hand over Dean’s hair, surprised when he pressed into the movement like a cat. “Most have a population of 20,000 - 60,000 workers.”

Dean moved closer as sleep drew him in; the angel didn’t object but curled around him protectively, the hum of his voice droning like the wings of a bee.

\--

Dean woke to a still hot cup of coffee and a note. 

_ Stay here, I’ve gone to do as you requested, I’m coming back. _

He flipped on the TV, more for noise than for anything to watch.  He picked at the muffin sitting beside his coffee cup.  He paced. He finally found himself lugging in his bag of weapons from the trunk and dismantling the guns, cleaning them, and putting them back together.  He’d just clicked the last piece into place when Cas dropped out of nowhere into a heap on the floor.

“Cas!” He was rolling him over and reacting, searching for a pulse,  _ do angels even have pulses?!,  _ “Castiel!”

Blue eyes flew open and a shudder wracked through his body. “We have to go. Dean, we have to go  _ now.”  _

“What the hell happened?!” Dean tugged him to his feet and tossed the bag of weapons over his shoulder, grateful he hadn’t got around to polishing the knives. 

“In the car, hurry.” Cas gasped as he stood up straight and clasped a hand over his ribs. 

“Are you ok?” Dean dropped a hand to the spot Cas was holding but the angel brushed him away.

“I’m fine, Dean. But we really do need to go.” The light fixtures beside the bed flickered and shook. “Now.”

“Ok, ok.” Dean grabbed him by the hand and pulled him from the room and into the Impala. The packed dirt spun under her tires as they pulled away and Cas turned in his seat to watch until the motel was nothing but a speck in the back window.

“I was wrong.” Cas turned back to Dean and grimaced as he settled back into his seat. “They knew I was there.

“Christ, Cas. Are you ok?” Dean’s eyes were roaming, trying to find the source of his obvious pain.

“I’m fine.” Cas waved a hand. “Nothing time won’t heal.”

“No offense, man, but you don’t look fine.”

“Sam is happy.” Cas caught Dean’s gaze and a small smile tilted his lips. “Eyes on the road, Dean.”

Dean tugged on the wheel to straighten the vehicle. “Yeah?”

“There is a dog. And a lot of laughter.” 

“Ok.” Dean nodded. “Yeah, should have figured he’d find the apple pie life in the end.” He took a deep breath. “It’s what he deserves, after all.” Cas was silent but his hand fell from his ribs and caught Dean’s where it lay on the seat between them “Thank you, Cas.”

“You are more than welcome.” 

\--

Days passed and then a week melted into a month and when vamp went active a mile from their hotel, Dean didn’t know how to just sit back and do nothing.  So they hunted. 

Eventually research was required, something was removing the brains of young coeds - leaving the skull intact. “Maybe they’re really neat zombies, Cas! I hope it’s zombies.”

“The undead are not  _ neat  _ Dean.”

“But they’re easy! Double-tap!”

Cas had just tilted his head in way that had clearly said ‘ _ Stop being a dumbass.’ _

Dean laughed.

It wasn’t zombies, neat or otherwise. Which led them back to the bunker for books on brain eating giants, because the footprints this thing was leaving behind were longer than Dean’s arm.

The bunker smelled stale and dust had settled over pretty much every surface.  Dean avoided the hall where Sam’s bedroom was - Cas ducked in briefly to gather the books scattered across the desk in there.

When Dean’s eyes finally gave up and he started dropping off at the table, Cas had guided him to his room and dumped him in bed. They didn’t both fit in the single, but Dean found the space anyway, pressed too close, his face against Cas’ shoulder and the angels arm, steady and comforting, over his hip. 

Dragonflies, Dean learned, were just as fascinating as honey bees.

\--

It got easier being in the bunker, surrounded by Sam’s odds and ends - and it’s not like Dean really had anywhere else to be; anywhere he’d rather be, anyway.  It took him almost three months before he had a rather startling revelation; Cas was tucked into an armchair with a large book across his knees while Dean scrolled through website after website looking for an answer he was sure wasn’t there. 

"Do you have anywhere else to be?” His revelation being that while Cas had always been an apparently busy guy, what with the  popping in and out on a whim, he had been pretty much within Dean’s eyeline for 87 days straight.  “Cas?”

The book lowered slowly and Cas blinked and answered with a small shrug as his eyes flicked back to the tome in his hands. “No.”

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Castiel?” Dean pushed the laptop lid almost closed and raised his eyebrows. 

Judging from the blush that crept up his neck and the fact that he wouldn’t raise his gaze, that is exactly what Cas was doing. “It is more important that I.. “ He stopped and his eyes dropped completely closed before meeting Dean’s. 

“I’m ok, Cas.” Dean felt heat rushing his own face, they never spoke of what happened; of what kept happening. “You can go if you need to.” 

Cas watched him, the way his eyes dropped and his head tipped, but the most telling was the softness of his voice. “I can stay.”

“I’m fine.” Dean snapped, a shot of anger and loss mingling with a fear that  _ maybe he wasn’t.  _ He rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath.  __ “You should go.”

Cas studied him. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll leave tomorrow.” He flipped the page in his book and Dean lifted the laptop lid, neither man acknowledging when their eyes met minutes later.

That night Cas stood, hesitantly for the first time in months, outside the open bedroom door.  When the Dean finally noticed him standing there the lines around his eyes relaxed and he huffed out a breath. “C’mon.” and he slid into the sheets.

Cas followed, laying still until Dean shifted and assumed his position, curling into Cas’ chest even as the angel’s hand weaved itself into his hair. 

Cas left the next morning after an awkward shuffle around the kitchen while Dean ate.  He was waiting to be asked to stay but the words never came.  Finally he huffed out “Call me if you need me.  I will be back by tomorrow night.”

Dean looked up from his cereal and nodded shortly. “Ok.”

“Ok then.” But still he stood there, “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean lowered his spoon and met Cas’ eyes, surprised. “Bye, Cas.” A pause. “Be safe, ok?”

“I will.” 

And just as he disappeared from view he heard Dean’s parting words. “Make sure you come back to me.”

Even though Dean couldn’t hear him, he promised into the rush of wind.

\--

The day was easy enough but Dean was used to Cas’s close proximity recently and, while Cas wasn’t loud by any means, the quiet of the bunker drove him to the stereo in the garage where he tinkered under Baby’s hood while the good stuff  blasted over the ceiling speakers Sam had installed for his last birthday.  

Burgers for one seemed ridiculous so frozen burritos and beer filled his belly after the sun set.  He flipped on a TV as he passed, for the sound more than anything and a documentary about cheetahs kept him company.  

Four hours later as he was watching the same gazelle get eaten  _ again _ he realized it was sometime way past his bedtime and he dragged himself down the hall to his room.  To his very very empty room.  He shrugged the apprehension away and fought down the urge to call Cas back for the night.  _ “Man up, Winchester. You need to learn how to be alone.” _

His pep talk did him some sort of good and he fell into sleep quickly. 

However, Dean dreamt.

He dreamt of Sam, not for the first time since his passing, but this was different. This was vivid and bright and  _ real. _

He jerked awake with images of Sam in hell racing through his mind. Not hell, like the cage Sam was in the first time, but the racks where the likes of Alistair would be more than happy to sink their, very literal, hooks.  He shook with the memories of screams and tears and a maniacal laugh that echoed through the place.  He felt frantic, he felt helpless, he felt  _ betrayed. _ Cas had  _ lied  _ to him, he was sure of it. 

He pulled an old bathrobe over his shoulders and stumbled out to the couch, he knew sleep wouldn’t be returning. Not now, anyway.

By the time his watch said that the sun should be up, Dean was curled up on one side of the couch, his mind still awake and wrestling with his heart.  Logically, he knew Cas wouldn’t lie to him.  Rationally, he recognized the wound on Cas’ ribs as being from an angel blade.  Which are, you know, found on an angel. In heaven.  He knew. He  _ knew.  _ But somehow, he doubted.

He pushed himself into a seated position and dropped his elbows to his knees. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean? Are you ok?” The answer came immediately from his left and Dean jumped. 

“You really do need a bell or something.” He gave a shaky laugh and stood, swaying as exhaustion hit him like a truck.  Cas was there, one arm braced under his arms and Dean didn’t realize how  _ cold  _ he was until the angel’s warmth was seeping through his robe. 

  
“Have you slept?” He was already being led back toward his room and Dean froze, body going rigid as Cas tried to tug him along.

“I can’t.” He was surprised at the choked off sob that welled up. “He’s in pain, Cas.”

Castiel knew exactly what he was talking about and met his eyes. “No, Dean, he is happy. I promise.”

Dean nodded miserably and tapped himself on the head. “But in here, he’s screaming.”  Dean wasn’t sure when they’d started walking again but suddenly he found himself with the bed at the back of his knees and he dropped heavily to the mattress. Cas pushed him back and his head hit the pillow, he fought against it for a moment but then the presence he was used to was back as Cas slid in beside him and he instantly relaxed, tucking his face into the fabric of the other man’s shirt..

“It’s a big dog. A retriever of some sort. Brown.” Cas paused. “He called it by a name, I assume they were familiar with one another. Before.” 

Dean’s memory clouded over to the summer Sam was 16 and the job he had at a rescue in some no name town where their father had set down temporary roots. Sam earned honest cash that summer and made a best friend named - 

“Grover.” Cas supplied.

“Like the Sesame Street character.” Dean bit back a huff that was both a laugh and a sob. “Dumbest damn dog you’ll ever meet. Sammy wanted to bring him with us when we left but Dad…  _ the roads no place for a dog, Sam _ .” This time his laugh was sharp and bitter. “It was no place for kids either. He should have had his dog, Cas.”

“He has him now.” 

“And you’re sure?” There was a hope in Dean’s voice that broke something in Cas’ chest and his too human heart thudded hard against his ribs.

“Absolutely.”

“Ok.” Dean nodded against Cas’ shirt. “Tell me more?”

Cas sighed. “I was only there for brief moment before my presence was detected. He was playing with the dog in the yard of a small blue house - “

“With white shutters and lilac bushes.” Dean smiled, not everywhere their father had dragged them had been bad.  “Sammy really loved it there, he said it felt like a real home. And I suppose after so many dingy apartments and motel rooms, it did.”

“His heaven looked very peaceful, Dean. An eternity fit for a soul like Sam’s.”

“Will I see him again?” The words were a whisper.

“Yes.” Cas’ voice was certain, absolute, stern almost. “Without a doubt.”

“But what if… I’m not always good, Cas. What it I -”

“I will not let that happen. You are not a tarnished soul, Dean. You forget that I can see, it’s brightness and it’s smudges all the same.”

“Cas…”

“Dean.”

“But - “

“If in your death your fate is undecided or your soul is somehow deemed unfit for the eternity that both heaven and hell agree that it is - Dean, I have pulled you out once. Do not think for one moment that now, after everything, I wouldn’t do it again.  And it would not take 40 years to reach you, you would be easy to spot, I am familiar now with the flare of your soul.  And it knows me.” Cas stilled the hand that had been tracing unorganized patterns across Dean’s shoulders and his free hand slid down to find Dean’s, curled against their chests.

Dean didn’t hesitate to slide their fingers together, pressed between their bodies. “It knows you?” Dean felt a blush, wondering exactly how much he soul was telling.

“Yes.” Cas tightened his hold, just a fraction. “It - it reaches for me.”

Dean tensed and brought his head back to meet his friend’s eyes. “It does?”

“Especially when I’ve been gone.” Cas’ lips curved up. “It’s a quite compelling reason to keep returning. Even if the body it inhabits…” He trailed off and his eyes dropped closed, something like pain flaring briefly before his lids swept it away.”It tells me what you cannot.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean dropped his head back and apologized to the fabric beneath his head.  

“I know. It tells me that, too.”

Dean huffed a laugh, embarrassment and something akin to hope fighting for majority vote. “So you and my soul have just been having some sort of secret affair behind my back all this time?”

This time is was a low laugh from Cas that rumbled through their joined hands. “Not the whole time. But it was the first part of you that I loved.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath and pulled back, needing suddenly, desperately, to see Castiel’s face. “Cas.” He was shocked at how wrecked his voice sounded.

Cas met his eyes with a soft smile. “It likes that.”

Dean felt warmth spread across his body in a wave.  “Me too.” He surged up and caught dry lips with his own, relishing in the gasp of surprise from Cas’ mouth. The kiss was short and chaste and  _ perfect  _ and Dean pressed an extra kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling back down. “Don’t leave again.”

“I won’t.”

“Ever.”

“Not even death.”

“I love you too, Cas.”

The silence was relaxed and Dean felt himself drifting.

“Bees are assigned jobs based on their age, the average bee doesn’t leave the hive until it’s 22 days old. Until then it does jobs inside the hive. It feeds the young, cleans, and protects the entrance. Every bee has a job and every job is important to the survival of the colony. Every individual  _ bee  _ is important to their survival.”  A soft press to Dean’s hair. “Just as you are important.”

Dean huffed sleepily, just on the other side of consciousness but his soul flickered happily and Cas smiled. He'd be ok.  _They_ would be.

 

FIN 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> See? That wasn't so bad, was it? Everyone's... mostly... happy. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it. I'm also a sucker for love in the form of comments or kudos. They kind of make the writing worth it, you know? <3


End file.
